


Red Robe, Golden Spears

by Teawithmagician



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, F/M, Hereditary Madness, Het, Irony, Light Angst, Polyamory, Psychological Instability, Pureblood Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teawithmagician/pseuds/Teawithmagician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ah, Talos. He was never afraid of the Sith stuff. Darth Nox l-l-loved this about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Robe, Golden Spears

"Talos!" floating down the gallery in her silk red robe, decorated with golden spears and black velvet, Darth Nox felt excited. There was a spot of caf on her collar, but the caf was black, the collar was black, Darth Nox' soul was black — she found there no contradiction.

"Mylady?" Darth Nox saw slight recognition in Talos' face as he hastily got up from the divan-bed and approached. Awe before the Realms of the Unknown, which only a true, Pureblood Sith ever entered, adoration towards the Heights of the Force-Driven Madness in the same pack with the readiness of taking the challenge and insatiable curiosity of true investigator...

Ah, Talos. He was never really afraid of the Sith stuff. Darth Nox l-l-loved this about him. A Dark Council Member also known as Lady Kallig or, moreoften, Darth Nox, very soon got tired of fear and loathing in Kaas City. She needed a friend, and, if possibly, not a Sith one — that gave her a weak, pale possibility she wouldn't have to kill him later.

"Talos," Darth Nox grabbed his hands with her brick red tetradigitate hands, the sorrowful sign of degeneration (old Kallig, her forefather, was half-mad according to the tradition, sharpened and all polished up by his descendants, who were all, more or less, completely mad) of the Bloodline.

"Mylady?" repeated Talos eagerly. He knew she got an idea, and Darth Nox really appeared to have one somewhere between breakfast and traditional sparring (or "the massacre of the innocents", as she used to call it) she had with her two disciples.

"Talos!" exclaimed Darth Nox, squinting with delight in the rays of rare Dromund Kaas sun.

"Yes, mylady?" asked Talos with a little more caution, peering at her attentively. His suspicion was quite understandable: while Nox wasn't titled Darth and used to be known simply as Lady Kallig, Talos travelled in her company, considered a part of the starship crew (or one of her minions). Darth Nox crew members often appeared in danger of losing body members or soul parts, so in the course of time Talos became slightly nervous, but, in any way, Darth Nox knew he wouldn't be so shy if she voiced her marvellous, gorgeous idea.

"You must make me a clone," Darth Nox breathed out intimately. Or maybe intimidatedly (she often mixed up with those two words).

"Em... ehem... erm," Talos hesitated, blinking his eyes quickly, so Darth Nox couldn't even see his short, pale eyelashes. "A clone of yours, mylady?"

"Of course, not," Darth Nox felt surprised. She had troubles with herself since she was a child, she didn't want to double it. "I need you to make me Darth Thanaton's clone. I remembered I got his blood on my less favorite pair of gloves."

"Mylady, but I am an archeologist, not a..." Talos tried to explain something, but it didn't matter as Darth Nox slapped his face with her fingertips — slightly, even tenderly. She didn't want to hurt him as she liked his plain face, so filled with enthusiasm towards gravedigging and tombraiding in the crypts of the most famous Lords and Ladies. In truth, Darth Nox didn't even want him to feel pain, she just needed to drive his attention and do it quickly as she hated waiting. What else could she do?

"Shhh. Shush," she warned. "Talos, you know better than me that I don't care. Get me Darth Thanaton's clone. I will send somebody with my gloves when I will find it."

Talos blushed. He was a virgin before he met Darth Nox, and she considered it one of her sweet little everyday victories. Darth Nox was virgin before uncle Vowrawn claimed to take her to Korriban by himself to start the General Part of her education. In any way, sweet little (nineteen years old, a little bit late for an acolyte, and already trained by her mother and grandfather) orphan was left so alone in this dark, inhospitable Galaxy after her family vicious murder! Darth Vowrawn was going to take care of her; all in the best Sith traditions, of course.

Darth Nox was pretty sure her caring uncle took care of her Bloodline first, and she was going to take care of him in response; one day, obviously, but not this one exactly. Nex week, month, year, maybe even later. Yes, later: that meant not now.

"May I," Talos spoke, though his lips quivered a little. "May I, mylady, ask..."

"Off you go," offered Darth Nox kindly. She really, really liked questions.

"You killed Darth Thanaton. Why do you need his clone?"

"Ah, this," Darth Nox' smile froze on her face. Yes, this. The thing. The thing she couldn't act weird to avoid. The thing she couldn't get over by neither sorcery nor eccentrical smiles. That serious thing, too silly to be real, too real to be silly. "You know, I loved him once, don't you?"

"I do," sighed Talos quietly. Darth Nox saw his eyes hurt because his mind hurt, he hurt from the inside and all over, but he managed to stand still and make a proper face. Sweet. Sad, but sweet, just like winter roses.

"I miss him," whispered Darth Nox, watching at a little black dot on the wooden panel right over Talos' head. "I needed to kill him; that was unpleasant, but inevitable necessity. But I miss him. The worst thing about killing is that you can't feel the things you were so used to. In the end, soul with no flesh is as useless as flesh with no soul. Do you understand?"

"No, mylady. This time, you speak in especially peculiar riddles."

"That's hwhy I am in Dark Councilee, dear, " Darth Nox laughed, clenching Holocron in one of the bottomless pockets of her rope, where Thanaton's soul endlessly screamed, sliced from Force, from life and from death altogether by her loving hand.

***  
If you like this, you may also like my original work: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5771851 :)


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